


You Are My Oasis

by Pseudonymoose



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Hates Sand, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, M/M, Secret Relationship, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29784699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudonymoose/pseuds/Pseudonymoose
Summary: They were stranded in a desert. Anakin was not supposed to be enjoying himself.It's entirely Obi-Wan's fault that he is.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120





	You Are My Oasis

The back of his hand prickled with the beginnings of a burn.

Anakin tucked it in the folds of the soft blanket under his cheek. The sun was hot and bright, a careful balance of sensory input that suspended him between consciousness and sleep. He pushed his face deeper into the blanket. Not for a long time could he recall being so comfortable.

The blanket moved, a gentle rise and fall, and pulled him closer. Anakin hummed and nuzzled it. Beyond the stale sweat and smoke and traces of soap, he could smell home.

“Obi-Wan,” he murmured.

“Right here, dear one.” Obi-Wan’s voice was as soft as his robes; softer.

Anakin smiled into his chest. Awareness was returning to him, and he let himself be roused. Obi-Wan’s arm was heavy around his waist, fingers resting against his hip. Anakin’s left hand was still buried in Obi-Wan’s robes, and he extricated it, slowly feeling his way up to Obi-Wan’s neck and further, until he reached the pleasant scratch of beard. Obi-Wan leaned into the touch. Lips grazed the edge of his thumb.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin felt it against his skin. “Good morning.”

Yes, it was. Anakin hummed again and tried to remember where they were, why they were lying together fully clothed under at least one scorching sun. The kyber crystal in his lightsaber called to him from where the weapon still hung on his belt. The hilt wasn’t digging into him; aside from Obi-Wan, he was sprawled on something firm but yielding.

Opening his eyes was a challenge. The sunlight was strong, even indirectly, and Anakin gazed unseeingly at tan cloth until he had adjusted. He tilted his head up and found Obi-Wan watching him.

“You’re awake,” Anakin said. His mouth was dry.

Obi-Wan’s amusement was palpable. “Yes, I am. So are you.”

“Hm.” The dryness was irritating, the one black mark on an otherwise perfect morning. “I’m thirsty.”

Unease.

Anakin realised at last that he had opened himself to the force without meaning to. He was sensing Obi-Wan’s emotions, hearing his kyber crystal and the faint resonance of Obi-Wan’s, but nothing else. There was nothing else around. Nothing living, nothing force sensitive.

He took Obi-Wan’s unease and multiplied it.

“Calm down, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s hand covered his. “It’s alright.”

Memories returned. A borrowed shuttle, crashing. Racing to recover what they could from the hungry flames, running across a blinding desert, cowering from the explosion behind a dune. This dune. The one they had settled against to await rescue, their emergency beacon planted on its summit.

The last vestiges of sleep deserted him.

“Is the beacon still transmitting?” Anakin asked.

“I believe so,” Obi-Wan said. “I see no reason why it wouldn’t be.”

Anakin sat up. The borrowed disquiet was fading, and in its place came organic purpose. He squinted at their hasty camp.

They had slept in the shadow of the large sand dune, the results of their rushed salvage efforts scattered around them in roughly organised piles. Anakin crawled to a singed grey box emblazoned with the symbol of the GAR and pulled out two water capsules. He tossed one to Obi-Wan and bit into the other. Tepid water gushed into his mouth. He swirled it around his tongue before swallowing.

Across the way, Obi-Wan was sucking on his own capsule.

“Drink slowly,” Anakin reminded him. “The last thing you want is to make yourself sick.”

They had enough water for four days, five if they were careful and kept to the shade. Six at a push, if Anakin sacrificed some of his ration to Obi-Wan. He had grown up on Tatooine, where water was as precious as gold, and sometimes nearly as difficult to obtain. If either of them could survive dehydration, it would be Anakin.

With luck, he wouldn’t have to share that plan with Obi-Wan. The uninhabited moon they had landed on was in the Mid Rim, not far from several major hyperspace routes. Someone would find them. Preferably not Separatists, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Anakin finished drinking and stood, shading his eyes with his gloved hand. The desert stretched on as far as he could see. Thin wisps of smoke still spiralled from the crash site, blown away from them on the ghost of a breeze. That was good; the smoke would help a rescue party find them, in case the beacon failed. Perhaps later he would see if he could find something else to burn.

“See anything interesting?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin dropped his hand and looked back at him. “The wreckage is still burning, or at least smouldering. There’s a fair bit of smoke. Other than that, nothing. Just a big, sandy desert.”

“You must feel right at home.” Anakin scowled at him, and Obi-Wan chuckled. “Don’t give me that look, Anakin. You’re the one who decided to crash here.”

“It was this, a water planet, or blowing up in space,” Anakin said. “I picked the lesser of three evils.”

“Slow dehydration is better than drowning,” Obi-Wan allowed. “Now where are you going?”

Anakin had started scrambling up the side of the sand dune. “Checking on the beacon. If it breaks, we’re toast.”

“You don’t fancy living out your days in a desert, then?”

“I don’t fancy _dying_ in a desert,” Anakin stated. He kept climbing.

The sand here was different to the sand on Tatooine. It was finer, paler. Good for sleeping on, not so great for traversing. Walking on it was a chore even on level ground, but slopes were a nightmare. The sand fell away whenever he stepped on it, his feet sinking and slipping backwards. The ascent was no easier than it had been the day before, when Obi-Wan had used the force to levitate the beacon up to him.

Anakin reached the top and knelt beside the fragile metal structure. The beacon itself was compact and virtually indestructible, but Anakin had cobbled together a basic communications tower from charred scrap to boost the signal. As nice as it was to be alone with Obi-Wan, he wanted to get off this moon as soon as possible.

It wasn’t so much about the threat of death, or the overabundance of sand, though the latter was irritating and inconvenient. It was the desert. Being in a desert, hot and dry, the sun unrelenting in its assault. It threatened to bring back memories that Anakin tried very hard to keep buried.

Thank goodness he wasn’t trapped here by himself. Obi-Wan helped to keep the darkness at bay.

“Everything alright up there?” Obi-Wan called.

Anakin checked the beacon. The light was on, and he could hear the steady ping of an outgoing transmission.

“All fine.” He turned and slid back down the side of the dune, digging in the heels of his boots to slow his descent. At the bottom, he shook sand from his robes. “I guess we just have to wait.”

“Then wait, we shall.” Obi-Wan reclined back against the dune. He had removed his dark outer robe, no longer necessary to ward off the freezing desert night, and spread it out in the shade. “No doubt you and I can find some way of spending the time.” The grin he gave Anakin bordered on predatory.

“Think again,” Anakin told him, tamping down the thrill raising his pulse. “We can’t exert ourselves. There’s not enough water.” If there _was_ enough water… “Besides, think of the sand. It gets everywhere.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Obi-Wan patted the enrobed ground to his left. “Join me. You’ll see I made sure you would be protected from the nasty sand, my young apprentice.”

Anakin rolled his eyes at the teasing but sat, drawing his knees up to his chin. It was a relief to be out of the sun. After a moment’s contemplation, he pulled off his own outer robe and laid it alongside Obi-Wan’s. Sweat dripped from his hair down the collar of his tunic.

“You’re hot,” Obi-Wan said.

“Thanks.” Anakin winked at him, relishing the rose that bloomed on Obi-Wan’s bare skin.

“You knew what I meant, Anakin.” Obi-Wan looked away. “You’re the expert on desert biomes. Is there any way to cool down, aside from shade and water?”

Anakin shrugged. “Not really. Just grin and bear it, and try not to sweat too much.”

“Wonderful. I finally have you all to myself, and most of the activities that come to mind carry a risk of death by dehydration or heat exhaustion.”

“Sorry about that,” Anakin said.

He wasn’t as sorry as he might have been. Those kinds of activities were great, but it was bizarrely easy to find time for them in war—an hour here, an evening there, peppering the short gaps between missions and engagements. What was really lacking was simply the chance to spend time together, alone in each other’s company, with no fear that someone would walk in. Waking up in Obi-Wan’s arms had felt amazing. When was the last time he had been able to do that? To spend an entire night curled at Obi-Wan’s side?

“We could play I-Spy,” Obi-Wan suggested dryly. “I spy—”

“If you say something beginning with ‘S’, I will make sure that when our rescue comes, they leave you behind.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Am I being cruel?”

“Very.” Anakin elbowed him.

It was strange to see Obi-Wan looking so relaxed. Strange in part because they were stranded in a desert facing possible death, but more so because it was rare, these days. It was a good strange.

Anakin chose not to bring it up. He would merely enjoy it, while it lasted. Obi-Wan, happy and playful, the cares and pressures of the wartime Jedi Master briefly forgotten.

Perhaps the desert wasn’t so bad. Perhaps these memories could replace the old.

“What are you smiling at?” Obi-Wan asked him.

Anakin was unaware that he had been. “You,” he said.

Obi-Wan’s own smile faltered, then returned, smaller but with delighted bewilderment. “What did I do?”

“Nothing in particular.” Anakin shook his head fondly and picked at the tiny grains of sand under his fingernails. “I’m just enjoying the morning.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. “Anakin, we are marooned in the middle of a desert. It’s too hot to do anything, our survival is far from guaranteed, and you have sand in your hair.”

He did? Wonderful. “All valid observations,” he said. There was no point in trying to evict the sand. He hadn’t noticed it until Obi-Wan had pointed it out, anyway.

“Then forgive me for wondering what there is for you to enjoy,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin turned to him with raised eyebrows. “You seem to be enjoying yourself. Why is it so hard to imagine me doing the same?”

Obi-Wan’s complexion darkened further. “That’s not—I wouldn’t say that I’m—”

“Shh.” Anakin put his gloved hand on Obi-Wan’s knee. Obi-Wan stopped protesting. “Look at me.”

Obi-Wan obeyed. Anakin dipped his mind back into the ocean that was the force, seemingly empty but for the two of them. He could sense a tang of fear, of anxiety, yes; but what struck him was the peace. Contentment, as warm as the embrace that Anakin had woken in, radiated from Obi-Wan in gently lapping waves. It was an imperfect mirror of Anakin’s own feelings, smooth where his were sharp, a hearth juxtaposed against his bonfire, but a reflection all the same.

“I know what you’re doing, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured.

“Yeah?” Anakin leaned into Obi-Wan’s side and whispered in his ear. “Reach for me.”

Anakin pulled back enough to watch the comprehension spread across Obi-Wan’s features. He pecked a kiss on Obi-Wan’s temple.

“Anakin…”

“I feel it, too,” Anakin said redundantly.

“So you do.” Obi-Wan brought their lips together. Anakin took his time in deepening it, savouring the small noises Obi-Wan made as he did so.

Mindful of the heat, Anakin broke away prematurely, though not far. “That was nice,” he breathed.

“Very.”

Rogue rays of sunlight illuminated Obi-Wan’s mussed hair, gilding different strands in turn. It was mesmerising.

Obi-Wan noticed him staring. “What is it?”

“You.”

Lines appeared in the corners of Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Is that your answer for everything today, dear one?”

“No,” Anakin said, resisting the instinct to pout. “Actually, I was looking at your hair.”

“I imagine it’s quite a mess.” Obi-Wan made to run his fingers through it. Anakin caught his wrist before he could.

“It looks beautiful,” he said. He kissed the back of Obi-Wan’s hand. “You’re beautiful.”

Obi-Wan lowered his head, gazing down at his lap. “I…” He exhaled loudly. “I’m not sure what I should say to that.”

“Don’t say anything,” Anakin advised. “Like I said, I’m enjoying the morning. I could do without you forcing me to explain every little compliment I give you. You’re beautiful. Just take it. I’ll let you go back to refuting everything I say once we’re off this rock.” He kissed Obi-Wan’s hand again.

Obi-Wan gazed up at him through his eyelashes, clearly very pleased but also very embarrassed. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Do you have any idea what _you_ are doing to me?” Anakin countered.

Beautiful. Force, he was so beautiful.

Not for the first time, he questioned how his slightly younger self could ever have believed he was in love with Padmé Amidala. Infatuation and lust could never come close to this. It wasn’t even attachment. His love for Obi-Wan was part of him, as written into his cells as the force itself.

The fingers he held entwined themselves with his. “Rest assured,” Obi-Wan said, “the feeling is mutual.” He met Anakin’s eyes at last, and Anakin shivered.

They were still connected in the force.

Obi-Wan could sense how Anakin felt, knew how Anakin felt.

“Reach for me,” Obi-Wan said, echoing Anakin’s earlier command.

Anakin did so, knowing already what he would find, but still itching with trepidation.

A mirror. Perfectly imperfect.

“I love you,” Obi-Wan said, a precis for all that Anakin could feel from him, all that could not truly be conveyed with words.

“I know you do,” Anakin replied, somehow winded, still half-lost in the constellations of the man who loved him. Where Anakin saw the force as an ocean, Obi-Wan was the sky.

Obi-Wan smiled. “And you love me?”

“You know I do.” Anakin tugged them both down to lie on their spread robes.

Obi-Wan released Anakin’s hand and propped himself up on his elbows. “I’m sorry, Anakin,” he said, himself a little breathless, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with you.” His gaze lingered on Anakin’s newly exposed collarbone. “You are far more beautiful than I could ever hope to be.”

Blood rushed to Anakin’s face. “Shut up.”

“Ah, I see.” Obi-Wan’s eyes sparkled. “So you‘re allowed to present me with biased opinions, but I’m forbidden from returning the favour with honest facts?”

Anakin groaned and grabbed Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Overbalanced, Obi-Wan fell on top of him. “It’s my mission, I make the rules.”

“And an excellent job you’re doing, General Skywalker,” Obi-Wan said. He burrowed into the crook of Anakin’s arm and kissed the side of his neck. “We only lost the bounty hunter we were supposed to be tailing, took a wrong turn into an asteroid field, and crashed on an inhospitable world. Apologies, I say we— _you_ were the one flying. Good work.”

“You could have intervened at any time,” Anakin said, tangling their legs together.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “I thought you had it all in hand.”

“Sure you did.”

They weren’t going to talk about what they had shared in the force. Language was clumsy and inadequate. The force was true, and there was nothing more to say.

Midday was approaching. Obi-Wan’s body would soon be an unwelcome layer of warmth, even dangerous, but Anakin didn’t want to let him go.

“We can’t stay like this too long,” he warned. “The heat…”

He felt Obi-Wan’s sigh. “Curse it.” Another kiss, to the underside of his jaw. “I hate desert planets.”

Anakin sniggered. “I knew I’d convert you to my point of view.” Obi-Wan kneed him in the thigh. “That was uncalled for.”

“I disagree,” Obi-Wan said, but didn’t elaborate further.

They continued to lie there together, daring the sun to force them apart. It would, and soon; but until then, there was no reason to move. No reason not to hold each other near, as intertwined in the force as in the flesh. 

“I may be revising my opinion on desert planets,” Anakin muttered.

Obi-Wan snuggled impossibly closer. “Really? In that case, you’ll have to remind me to escort you to the Halls of Healing on our return to Coruscant. Either you have a terrible case of heat stroke, or you hit your head in the crash.”

“I hate you,” Anakin said mildly.

Around them, the force swirled with a warmth to rival the hazy air.

Obi-Wan brushed his thumb against the inside of Anakin’s wrist. “No, you don’t.”

No. He didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> At last, I present to you: fluff! 
> 
> Unexpected fluff, at that. Started two more hurt/comfort oneshots this week that remain WIPs, because this fic decided to happen instead. Never fear, normal service will resume in due course.


End file.
